Twelfth Night
by Hopelessly scattered
Summary: A series of Peggy and Angie dressing like men. Part 1: Peggy comes home after five months gone without a word, only to find Angie in a bit of trouble.


**Inspired by a pic of Hayley Atwell in basically the clothing I describe Peggy in. **

She'd been gone for months, but Peggy Carter still knew her way around New York, even when blood was starting to soak through her crisp white button down. She stumbled down an alleyway; one she knew was close to the L&amp;L. She would have a lot of explaining to do, but she knew that Angie would help her.

She glanced down at herself: men's pants, creased down the front legs, suspenders holding them up, a bomber jacket helped to hide the staining shirt, and a newsboy cap to hide her hair. If one didn't look too hard, she would pass for a man. An easier way to move in and out of the city she had found.

It wasn't too much farther, now. Angie would be mad, mad at her for leaving without word, for disappearing for five months with no contact, but Peggy needed to see her, know she was safe, tell her how sorry she was, how much she missed her. She just hoped Angie would forgive her.

Peggy slipped in the slick puddle of mud, crashing into it gracelessly. The water soaked through her shirt and stung at the gash in her side. She hissed, clamoring to her feet. She could do this, just a bit farther.

Up ahead, she saw the side entrance. A figure burst out, trash bag in hand. The figure crossed the alley, tossing it into the bin.

"Angie." Peggy let out a shallow breath. She tried to quicken her pace.

When Angie turned on her heels, she realized she wasn't alone in the alley. But it wasn't Peggy that she spotted; instead, two dark shadows appeared at the end.

"Hey, pretty lady, whatcha doing back here all by yourself?" one of them slurred, obviously drunk. He began to approach her.

Angie began walking slowly, but purposefully towards the door she came out of. Peggy felt her body go into overdrive, her pace quickened, she felt like she'd regained the blood she had lost.

"Hiya, fellas," she said, calmly. "Why don't you come around front, and I'll get ya each a cup of coffee on the house. How's that?"

"I know something we'd rather have, wouldn't ya say, Boris?" the man spoke again, coming towards Angie.

Boris grunted, working his way between Angie and the door.

She started to back away, but the man grabbed her, pulling her into him.

"Where ya going, sweet heart?"

It was the only thing he said before he yelped, releasing her. He clutched his hand. Angie had bent back his fingers. She whirled around, and kicked him square in the balls. He crumpled to his knees.

Boris lunged at her, but Peggy was there. She brought her fist up hard, right into the bottom of his jaw. There was a sickening crack that she was sure were some of his teeth breaking.

The other man made the mistakes of yelling as he charged at her. She quickly silenced him with a strategic jab to the throat, and knocked his feet out from under him with a swift kick.

She spun. Boris had gotten up, this time with a knife. He lunged, but she was too quick, grabbing a nearby trash lid she used it as a shield. The knife pierced through the shallow tin. She used the lid to twirl the weapon him from his grip, the lip smacking his wrist. She smashed it in his face, once, twice, three times, and he stumbled back. She took hold of an edge, and spun the lid like a flying disk. It connected with his forehead, and he was down.

The other man grabbed her ankle, and with the wooziness of her mind, she lost her footing. He was over her in an instance, fists coming down hard, but then Angie was there, smacking him in the face with the beaten up trash can lid. He fell with a resounding thunk, beside her.

Peggy groaned. Her everything hurt, and she could feel the warm flow of blood pooling down to her back.

"Oh my God, are you alright?" Angie's voice was like heaven after so long. "Let me help you up!"

She allowed Angie, while keeping her face down, to help her sit up.

"Thank you so much," Angie continued. "I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't come around. I mean I can defend myself a bit, as you saw, but with two of them, I was outmatched."

Peggy chuckled. Same Angie, still talking up a storm, still being the kind hearted woman she fell in love with. She pushed herself up, trying to get to her feet.

"Oh, golly, here let me help." Angie took hold under her arm, and helped Peggy host herself to her feet. "Come inside let me get you cleaned up. The least I can do for you saving me and all."

She moved to lead Peggy to the side door, but Peggy reached a hand out and stopped her.

When Angie turned, she looked square into Peggy's face, and gasped. The flood of affection coursed through Peggy. She could do just about anything for this woman.

"And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, to do you rest, a thousand deaths would die."

And then Peggy was on the ground again; Angie had slapped her clear across the face.

"You bastard!"

She must have passed out for a split second because she when she cracked open her eyes, Angie was leaning over her shaking her shoulder.

"Jeeze, English, I didn't mean to hurt you! Ok, maybe a bit, but not so you'd pass out." Angie's voice and eyes were pleading and upset. "Please wake up."

"I'm awake," Peggy assured her, trying to sit up. There was a sudden surge of pain through her side. She clutched at it and cursed.

Angie's hand urged her hand and jacket away, allowing her to see the blood soaked shirt beneath. "Peggy…"

"I'm fine, Angie." She was trying to be convincing, but the world was spinning a bit.

"This ain't fine." Angie was quiet for a moment, thinking, which allowed Peggy to study her through half lidded eyes. Her hair curled around her face, a marvelous frame to an exquisite masterpiece. Peggy long to reach out and run her hands through those locks and draw her in to press her lips against the pink rose bud color of Angie's. Those sharp blue eyes snapped back to her, and Peggy smiled with a laziness that betrayed her blood loss, and perhaps her infatuation. "Can ya stand?"

Peggy's eyes narrowed as she assessed her body. It was a trick she'd learned from the war, allowing her other senses to tell her without looking the condition of her body. Though she was lightheaded and weak, she was sure she could manage to at least get through the door. She nodded.

Angie helped her up. "You're gonna be alright, English, I'm gonna take care of you."

"You always do."

Angie smiled at her. And maybe that was it, maybe it was the smile, or the cloud in Peggy's head, or the way Angie was looking at her, but Peggy knew then that Angie was whom she wanted to be with for the rest of their lives, if she'd have her.

Angie pulled her into the back of the kitchen. All the lights were out; obviously she had been left to close.

"By yourself? I will murder that man," Peggy mumbled. Angie's boss would be hearing from her when she could stand on her own again.

Angie tutted, swatting her leg lightly with a dishcloth. She pressed the cloth against the wound. "Here can you hold this while I go get the kit?"

Peggy nodded. She watched Angie as she bent down and rummaged through a cabinet. She was appreciating the nice view of the waitress's backside when said waitress straightened and spun. Peggy was sure from Angie's smile that her eyes hadn't been quick enough in their diversion.

"Alright, English, take off that jacket," Angie told her, opening the first aid kit, and pulling out supplies.

Peggy did as she was told, shrugging the jacket off as best she could. She moved to pull at her suspenders, but the skin of around her wound stretched with the movement and sent a blinding flash of pain through her.

Angie's hands were there, stilling her movements, pulling at the suspenders herself. She was muttering soft, warm, comforting things in Peggy's ear as her hands moved to unbutton Peggy's shirt. This was not how Peggy had imagined Angie seeing her upper body so exposed for the first time. Angie's hands trailed over the binding around her breasts for a moment, before they moved to the gash just under it.

"This looks deep. It needs to be cleaned then I'm gonna sew you up, ok?" Angie waited till Peggy nodded, before she leaned over Peggy's head, and ran a clean cloth through the hot water. It left Peggy with a very nice view down Angie's shirt.

One she no longer enjoyed as Angie began to wipe the dirt from her wound. She should be used to such things, but every time hurt like the first.

"Gotta sew it up, now, alright?" Angie's blue blue eyes were so soft, so kind. Peggy nodded.

When the needle connected with Peggy's skin, she hissed, gritting her teeth as Angie worked it in and out. All the while Angie filled the silence with words of encouragement, of "it'll be over soon," of "almost done." And Peggy was grateful when Angie finally tied the knot and declared her finished.

"You might want to see a real doctor," Angie said, studying her handiwork with cool deft hands. "I mean I used to sew up some of my brothers and cousins, but I haven't had to in years."

Peggy's hand came overtop of Angie's on her skin. "I'm sure it's more than acceptable, thank you, Angie."

Angie flushed. They smiled at each other for a moment, before Angie's eyes trailed over Peggy's body. Though the binding hid her breasts, Peggy felt exposed under Angie's gaze. Her eyes lingered on the taunt muscles of Peggy's abdomen. Hands reached out and grazed fingertips over the defined ridges. Peggy shuddered at the contact.

"Peggy," she said, voice soft, "Where'd you go off to?"

"I…" Peggy faltered. She couldn't tell Angie.

"Can't tell me," Angie finished for her. She was looking at her with watery eyes, begging for a reason, for anything. "Not even a call? Not even a note? I come home, and you aren't there. And you never came home! I had to call up Mr. Fancy just to know you were still alive! Do you have any idea how that feels? Not knowing."

Images of Steve flashed before her eyes, and the guilt flooded through her faster than the pain. Peggy swallowed. "I know I'm sorry. There's no explanation in the world that would excuse my behavior, and my lack of understanding where you are concerned. I…I understand if this means you feel as though you cannot trust me, and therefore cannot live with me."

"English!" Angie looked taken aback.

Peggy shuffled as best she could to her feet, trying not to pull at the stitches. She pulled on her shirt and jacket, securing her hat on.

"Don't worry, you won't have to move. I will, and I'll never bother you again," she said, fighting the overwhelming emotions flooding her. Never seeing Angie again felt like another knife stab. This one far worse than the first.

She stumbled out the back door, and into the alley before Angie grabbed her and spun her around.

"I ain't looking for you to move, English," she insisted. She was so close, and Peggy wanted nothing more than to grab her and show her how truly sorry she was. "I'm looking for you not to disappear on me again."

"I won't. I swear." She would never do this to Angie again.

Angie stepped towards her, the space dwindling between them until they touched from chest to knee. Her hands cupped Peggy's face, her eyes hooded. "You gonna explain why you're dressing like a boy?"

Peggy smiled. "You don't like it?"

Then Angie's lips were on her own, soft and aching. It was quick, a shock through Peggy's system, and then it was over. Angie was smiling at her. "I never said that."

She ran her hands down the suspenders, till they settled flat over top Peggy's abs. "I would like to get another look at these. For…scientific purposes."

Peggy laughed. "Science was it? I didn't realize you were such a researcher, Angela Martinelli. Maybe you should talk to Howard instead."

Angie's face faltered, her hand went to move from Peggy, but the spy grabbed it, pulling the waitress closer still. Peggy trailed a hand through those curls she so admired to the face she admired even more. "But then I think I'd rather keep you all to myself."

Angie's smile threatened to split her face. "Yeah?"

"I'm quite taken with you, you know." Peggy blushed at her confession.

"Right back at ya, Pegs," Angie said, tugging Peggy forward into another kiss.

They were languid about this one, taking their time with each other. Peggy wasn't sure if it were her injury or the woman clutching her biceps tightly that was making her head spin more. When Angie pulled back, breathless, Peggy knew.

"In fact, I may be quite in love with you." If she was going to do this, she was going to do this right. Peggy needed Angie to know how she felt, damned the consequences.

Angie's eyes filled with unshed tears. Her hands came to cup Peggy's cheeks. "Well the feeling is mutual, English."

Peggy's heart jumped. "Yeah?"

Angie sighed. "Yeah, I love you, you big idiot spy."

They kissed again, for how long Peggy couldn't be sure, before Angie tugged at her hand. "Come on, I'm taking you home. You aren't going anywhere but bed for at least a week."

"Is that a promise?" Peggy asked hopefully. Spending lazy days memorizing the every curve of Angie's body seemed like a great welcome home present. One she knew she didn't deserve.

Angie's laugh echoed off the alleyway. She swatted her arm. "Don't be so lewd." She paused, running her eyes over Peggy's body. "But yeah, it's a promise."


End file.
